Never Broken (9 page)

“Lass—lass?”

Shannon’s heavy lids cracked open. Her eyes focused, and for a moment she didn’t know where she was. Then coldness of the air shocked her into reason, and the pungent odor of the wharf district brought reality back to her. Panicked, she looked down, relieved to see Ainslee sleeping, her head still on Shannon’s lap.

“Lass… I say, are you two well?”

Shannon glanced up at the man tapping her shoulder.

He gave her an indulgent smile. He was young, with deep-set eyes and a thick neck. His white collar seemed ready to pop and fly off any minute. But his expression was kind and immediately drew Shannon in. She hadn’t seen a friendly face since she and Ainslee had left Ballyclough.

“The friar an’ me came to see if you needed any help.”

“Oh Father, thank God.” Her throat felt dry and sticky at the same time. “My sister is gravely ill. I don’t know what’s wrong with her.”

The priest’s hand emerged from his large, bell-shaped sleeves. He laid the back of his hand against Ainslee’s forehead. “She’s burnin’ with fever, that’s for sure.” He skimmed his hands over her torso and her coat as if checking for any other problems. Once he finished his inspection, his hands quickly disappeared back into his sleeves.

“I fear there’s naught to do for her but to pray and try to keep her warm,” he said solemnly. “The fever, it has claimed so many innocent souls. But take heart, my child, for this sweet lass will soon be cradled in our heavenly Father’s arms.”

Shannon burst into tears. It was as grave as she had feared all along.

“Give your coat to the Friar. We’ll lay it over her body and say a few words to the blessed Mary for your friend.”

“Sister,” Shannon said thickly, nearly choking on her tears. Carefully she removed her coat, trying not to disturb Ainslee. “She’s my twin sister.”

“Then you suffer a double portion o’ sorrow. To lose a sister and a twin. Although I must say the two of you look as different as night n’ day. But I’m thinkin’ you heard that before.”

Shannon nodded, handing the jacket to the friar. The thin man, who hadn’t spoken a word thus far, nearly dropped the coat. But he caught it quickly, straightened it, and shook it open. He laid it gently over Ainslee. “There,” he said, his voice deep and comforting. “That will help your sister.”

Although she was shivering, Shannon didn’t care. She’d do anything, even strip down to her chemise, if would help Ainslee.

The priest nodded to the Friar. “A word of prayer, me brother.”

Shannon closed her eyes as the priest said a few words over Ainslee. Extremely few words, but Shannon was glad for them. When he was finished, she looked up at him. “Thank you, Father, for your kindness,” she said, wiping her tears. “My sister would have wanted this.”

“Where were you headed?”

“America,” she replied. “Now, I don’t know.”

“Seems everyone is headin’ that way. God bless ye, whatever ye decide to do. An’ ye never know, God might provide a miracle and heal yer sister after all.”

“God bless you too, Father.” As the men walked away, Shannon clung to the priest’s parting words. God was with them, and He’d make Ainslee well. It was the only hope she had left. She stared down at her sister and smiled through a blur of tears. “Soon, Lee. God will heal you soon.”

Seamus smiled to himself
as he bolted behind Jamey.
I can learn a lot from a fellow like him. He’s a mighty good sneak-thief
. “Yer a bloody good actor, me friend,” Seamus said when they returned to the warehouse. “If I hadn’t known better, I would ’ave thought ye’d been to the collar born.”

“’Tis a gift,” Jamey said wryly. “That and many hours forced on my knees listenin’ to Father O’Herlihy drone on and on about God’s goodness an’ havin’ faith and all that claptrap.”

“I reckon none of it sank in.”

“Nay. But it has come in handy for pickin’ the pockets of them that’s too trustin’. So how much did ye get?”

Seamus pulled out the tied handkerchief he’d retrieved from the dark haired girl’s coat. He grinned when he opened it and showed it to Jamey.

Jamey chuckled. “Not bad. Not bad a’tall.” He pulled out another handkerchief, tied in the same way, which he’d stolen from the blonde haired girl as he’d pretended to check her for illness. When he opened it he let out a bark of laughter. “Must have been the poor chits’ entire savin’s,” he said.

“Or their parents’.”

“No matter, ’tis ours now, an’ I be pleased to spend it on a fine pint of whiskey an’ a good Irish wench.”

Seamus nodded in agreement. After Jamey rid himself of the priest’s collar, they pulled their thick coats over their religious garments and headed for the nearest public house in Cork.

They passed the two young girls again. Seamus nodded his head in her direction. “Think the wee one will make it?”

“Nay,” Jamey replied, without a trace of emotion in his voice. “Not even God himself can save that one. She’ll be dead by mornin’.”

That afternoon Rory hobbled along the
road with the rest of the displaced populace, his feet throbbing in his expensive black boots. Yet any time he winced at the pain in his heel or shivered against the biting cold, he glanced around him, taking note of children who trudged along barefoot in the bitter cold. He had no right to complain.

He could have used some of his money to hire a coach, or even a wagon and horse to drive himself to the harbor. But he balked at such an unseemly show of wealth among those that had nothing. As long as he could still move on his own, he would make his way to Cork on foot.

As he labored his way on the dusty road, he thought about Colm. What had his brother hoped to accomplish by going back to Ballyclough? He couldn’t stay with the Gormleys, as either Lady Jane or William would send him away. Perhaps he intended to return to his plot of land, a purchase that still surprised Rory. At least Colm had something of his own. Rory had nothing but a nearly completed University education, which was now useless.

Or maybe not. Perhaps he could find an opportunity to work in a law office once he got to America. Perhaps a reputable American lawyer would understand the circumstances and hire him as an apprentice.

Or maybe he could return to his first love, medicine. He had a large sum of money. If he invested it wisely, he might gain schooling as a physician. As he thought more about it, his anticipation grew, overshadowing the pain of leaving Colm and Sara behind. He had the opportunity to start a new life, and he planned to make the most of it.

By the time he reached Cork, he nearly had himself convinced that his future was as bright as it had been a year ago.

When he reached the docks, the sight of the crowds shocked him. Despite the tragedy he’d seen on the journey here, he hadn’t expected such a sea of misery. Cold, starving Irish were everywhere, bargaining for passage to America, Liverpool, even Scotland. The ships offering passage seemed highly inferior to the ones carrying cargo. Knowing he could well afford it, Rory sought out one of the better ships. It wasn’t long before he found one, the Margaret Anne.

As he made his way to the ship, he dodged weakened people and stepped around sickly bodies. The place reeked of water-soaked wood and death. His eagerness dimmed, replaced by a weary helplessness that rent his heart.

He walked on, favoring his sore foot, when the toe of his boot hit something—or someone. At the sound of a woman’s cry of pain, he looked down.

“A thousand pardons, miss…” His mouth gaped as he looked into the face of the woman who had haunted his thoughts for the past year. “Shannon?”

Could this truly be the woman of his dreams? She stared back at him with vacant eyes, black circles prominent underneath. Instead of Shannon’s plump, bonny cheeks, her face was gaunt, her lips pale and thin. She seemed not to recognize him, and her head drooped until her chin touched her chest.

Yet despite the drastic change in her appearance, he knew her to be his Shannon.

“Oh God,” he cried, hunkering in front of her. He touched her icy arms, then quickly whipped off his coat and wrapped it around her. Only then did he see the woman lying with her head in Shannon’s lap, a threadbare woolen overcoat tucked around her body. He took care not to disturb her as he rubbed Shannon’s freezing shoulders.

“What happened, lass?” When she didn’t answer he cupped her chin and forced her to look at him. “Shannon, talk to me. Now.”

“S-so c-cold,” she said, her breath coming out in small white clouds through her chattering teeth. “C-old…”

He rubbed her arms harder. How did she get in such a state? “We’ll get you warmed up, lass. I promise.” He looked down at the blonde haired girl. “Who is this?”

“S-sister… Ainslee” Shannon said, her stiff fingers slowly moving to touch the young woman’s hair.

The sister’s cheeks were apple red, and Rory deduced she was brimming with fever. Her chest barely rose as she breathed. “You can’t stay here,” he said to Shannon. “You’ll both catch your death.”

“No m-money,” Shannon said, tears squeezing out of the corner of her eyes. “S-stolen.”

Rory’s heart lurched at the pain he saw reflected there. He couldn’t bear to see his bonny Shannon without hope. “Can you move?” he asked gently.

She nodded but remained still. He reached for her sister, scooping her into his arms. “We need to get off these docks and find a warm place to spend the night.” He stood and looked at Shannon. “Can you walk?”

Shannon finally rose from the docks, her movements stiff as she clutched the lapels of Rory’s coat to her chest. She looked at him but said nothing. As he began to move, she slowly followed.

It took them a while to thread through the crushing crowd, but the three of them managed to escape the docks. Rory found a small inn nearby and rented the largest room available. As he laid Shannon’s sister on the bed and pulled a blanket over her, he said, “She’s still unconscious. I’ll go downstairs and fetch more blankets and water for the washbasin.” He turned and looked at Shannon as she stood near the cold fireplace, ready to suggest she get in bed with her sister. But remembering what he’d read and heard about the fever, how contagious it was, he changed his mind. He needed to start a fire, but Ainslee needed the warmth of the blankets more. But before he could leave, he had to make sure Shannon could be alone.

He went to her, put his arm around her shoulder and guided her to a well-worn chair, then crouched in front of her and rubbed her arms again.

“Are you all right, lass?” Her silence alarmed him. He touched her forehead. “No fever. Are you warming up?”

“Aye,” she whispered. “A little.”

“Good, good. Stay in this chair and hold my coat tightly against your body, for that will keep in the warmth. I’ll be back soon.”

As he rose, Shannon reached for him. “Ainslee?”

Rory glanced over at the bed. Despite her heated cheeks, Ainslee’s skin was ashen. She hadn’t stirred at all when he laid her on the bed, and that worried him. “I don’t know, lass,” he said, not wanting to give Shannon false hope. “But I promise I’ll do all I can for her.”

“Thank you.” Her brown eyes brimmed with tears as she looked at him. “I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t found us.”

He couldn’t resist running the back of his hand down her cheek. There was something about her, even under these desperate circumstances, which drew him to her. Seeing her eyes widen as he touched her, he jerked away then walked out the door.

Shannon watched Rory leave
and clung to his coat, holding it close to her body, just as he’d instructed. Her mind was hazy with confusion, but her skin tingled from his touch. Was he really here? Were she and Ainslee away from the wretched docks or was she having another dream? It wouldn’t be the first time since getting robbed that she’d seen something that turned out not to be real.

During the past few hours, as Ainslee had lain deathly still in her lap and she had tried desperately to keep both of them warm, she’d had visions of being home. Of laughing with Ma and Da. Of happier times spent in the potato field with her father, or sitting on a gently sloping green hill, breathing in the fresh air and imagining her future. Unlike Ainslee, she wanted to marry and have children, although she hadn’t had a serious suitor since she became of age. “The Lord will bring ye the right man, Shannon,” her mother had said on more than one occasion. “Until then, be content in yer circumstances.”

And she had been, up until she worked for the Gormleys and met Rory. Since then he’d haunted her thoughts and dreams. She’d given up on seeing him again. Yet now he was here. She snuggled into his coat and breathed in deeply. It carried Rory’s comforting scent and filled her with hope. This was no dream. God had provided a miracle after all.

Her heart twisted as she cast a gaze at her sister, seeing the faint rise and fall of Ainslee’s chest. Shannon blinked back tears, forcing them not to fall. Her tears wouldn’t heal her sister or bring back the money the fake priest and friar had stolen from them.

She turned away from Ainslee and stared at the empty fireplace. How could she have been so gullible? Yes, they had represented themselves as men of the cloth, but she should have known something wasn’t right. Ainslee would have spotted them as false right away.
My stupidity put us in a precarious and deadly position. If Rory hadn’t found us…

The warmth of his coat seeped into her frigid bones, and she allowed herself a tiny smile. God was watching over her and Ainslee. She knew that now. A faint ember of fresh optimism lit her soul.

She looked up as Rory entered the room, his arms filled with the extra blankets he had promised and a tin bucket with water sloshing over the sides. He set the bucket on the floor and took the blankets to the bed. “Has she moved, lass?” he asked Shannon as he spread more covers over Ainslee.

“Nay.” Her optimism faded, replaced with worry. “She’s been as still as death since you left.”

Rory acknowledged her with a grave nod. He regarded Ainslee for a moment, tucking the layers of blankets closer to her body before walking to the hearth. He crouched in front of it and began laying a fire. Once it came to life, he moved to Shannon and placed his hand underneath her arm. “You need to be close to the fire, and I want to check your feet.”

“I don’t understand. Why do you want to look at my feet?”

“Frostbite. ‘Tis deathly cold outside, and your shoes are thin.”

She allowed him to help her up, thankful for the strong feel of his hands and arms as they supported her. She moved on wobbly legs to the fire and realized how weak she truly was. He grabbed the chair she’d been sitting in and pulled it close to the hearth. Her cold cheeks thawed with the heat of the fire while he knelt before her and removed her shoes as if she were a member of the gentry and he a servant. “You’re a strange man,” she murmured, as she watched him gently peel off her stocking and touch her toes with his long fingers.

“Cold, but not frost bitten.” He began rubbing her foot with his hand. “How does that feel?”

Like heaven. His hands were firm, yet gentle. She felt guilty for enjoying his touch, especially when it was her sister who was ill. “I’m fine, Mr. O’Leary.”

“Rory, remember?” He looked up at her. “Call me Rory.”

She flushed again. “Shouldn’t you be tendin’ to Ainslee first? She’s worse off than me.”

He stopped rubbing her foot. “Shannon, there’s naught I can do for your sister at the moment. She’s well tucked in with blankets, which will warm her body. We’ll have to let the fever run its course and pray she’ll be able to fight it. I’ll keep a vigil over her, but she’s in the good Lord’s hands now.” He swallowed. “I’m sorry, Shannon. I wish there was more I could do.”

“You’ve done more than expected.” She gazed at him, hoping he knew how grateful she was. Saying thank you didn’t seem enough.

He shifted from crouching to kneeling. “Let me see your other foot.”

As he continued to rub her feet, her eyes drifted shut. The warmth of the fire, combined with fatigue, made it difficult for her to remain awake. Her head bobbed once, twice, then—she awoke with a start, still clutching Rory’s coat around her. She moved and slipped one arm out of the sleeve. “You need this,” she said.

“Wait.” He took the blanket off her lap plus an extra one on the table and laid them in front of the fire. “Lie down.” His voice was gentle but commanding.

She stood, grateful she could feel her toes again, took off his coat, and handed it to him. She curled up on the blankets, the fire warming her back. Her eyes grew heavy again.

When she woke, Rory’s coat covered her body. She sat up and looked toward Ainslee’s bed. Her sister hadn’t moved. She gazed around the room. “Rory?” she whispered. The room was silent, save the crisp crackle of the fire. She said his name again more loudly. He was gone.

Ainslee moaned. Shannon stood, the coat slipping from her body as she hurried to the bed. Shannon put the back of her hand against her sister’s forehead, and her sister emitted a soft whimper. The fever was worse. Shannon bit her lip as she tore the bottom of her skirt, not caring it was the only one she owned. She ripped the fabric into several strips then dipped them into the bucket Rory had brought earlier. She perched on the side of the bed, dabbing Ainslee’s forehead with the cool cloth.